


falling one leaf at a time

by stardazed_daydreams



Series: nameless [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Cultural Differences, Fae & Fairies, Fae Logic | Logan Sanders, Fae Morality | Patton Sanders, Falling In Love, Fluff, Human Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Jealousy, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric, M/M, POV Logic | Logan Sanders, Prince Logic | Logan Sanders, Prologue, Seelie Court, Unseelie Court, a bit - Freeform, idk man just some soft analogical, or the fae equivalent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 04:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardazed_daydreams/pseuds/stardazed_daydreams
Summary: He's fine.Really.





	falling one leaf at a time

Rain runs through the forest. 

Water pools on every surface, drip-drip-drips off of red-and-gold leaves, makes tiny little rivulets in the dirt that chase each other through the trees. 

The wind creates a beautiful melody of whispering trees and howling caves, singing through the air like nobody’s listening. 

The barest hints of frost gather on the bark and crunch in the dirt, a glimpse of the cold to come.

Logan stands at the center of it all.

He loves it. 

“Your- um, your highness?”

Logan turns a critical eye to the sprite before him. “Yes?”

“The queen wishes to see you,” the sprite says, shifting from one foot to the other.

Logan sighs, pushing himself to his feet. “Very well,” He says. “You may go.”

Relieved, the sprite scurries off, melting into the trees with ease. 

Logan walks. 

He isn’t in a rush. Maybe he should be- if his mother has something to say, it’s usually something he should hear, even if he doesn’t really _ want _ to hear it.

As he picks his way through the trees, he begins to hear something, warm tones in the distance. 

Curious, he follows the sound, out to the very edge of the forest. 

He stands hidden in the shadows, gaze travelling to the people talking, fenced into the backyard of a house. 

One of them is singing. 

This one is clearly fae, with pointed ears and honey eyes. He holds a ukulele, and he is singing a fae song, a song of love and life. 

He sits cross-legged in front of a small garden, weaving magic into the plants with each breath.

Framed in sunlight, he is the most beautiful thing Logan has ever seen.

He pauses in his singing to smile at the boy next to him, and, okay- this fae is immediately tied with the mortal next to him. 

“Shut up,” the mortal says with a playful laugh, shoving the fae’s shoulder. 

Logan can do nothing but stare. 

The song starts back up, the fae strumming and singing. 

The plants flourish, the mortal laughs. 

Logan leaves to see his mother. 

* * *

He sees the mortal again a week later.

He is either incredibly brave or extremely stupid, because he his willingly wandering into the forest, alone, and completely without concern. 

He hums softly,pausing occasionally to inspect a leaf or lift a caterpillar from the ground and place it gently on the bark of a tree.

Logan isn’t- he isn’t _ following _him, exactly, but he sticks close to the mortal, not out of concern for his well-being or anything, no, that would be ridiculous, but because there’s a human in his territory and he should, therefore, keep an eye on him, maybe even scare him away. 

Logan doesn’t, though. He watches, he waits, and he listens. 

After about an hour of wandering, gathering, and tending to the forest, the mortal suddenly stops and looks up.

He doesn’t look directly _ at _ Logan, but it’s close enough to make the hair on the back of Logan’s neck stand on end. 

“Thank you,” the mortal says, rather earnestly. “The autumn are doing a wonderful job this year.” 

Logan flushes, surprise freezing him in place. Heat crawls up his neck and he chokes out a quiet, “you’re welcome.”

The mortal smiles fleetingly, soft and sweet. “See you around,” he says, and turns back the way he came, humming ever-so-softly. 

Logan would do anything to see him again.

It turns out that Logan doesn’t have to do much of anything at all. 

After that initial encounter, the mortal just sort of turns up at odd times. Logan isn’t sure how he always manages to end up in the same place that Logan is, but he isn’t going to complain- in a forest full of fae terrified of him, this mortal is…

Refreshing. 

Logan doesn’t speak much during these visits. He doesn’t even come out of the trees, choosing to instead sit on a sturdy bough and look down at him through the dying leaves. 

The mortal doesn’t seem to mind at all- usually, he sits cross-legged on the ground and watches the forest. 

It’s quiet, in a way that Logan has never experienced before. They simply sit together, enjoying the other’s presence. 

On the fourth of one of these visits, the mortal speaks in a low tone, cautious.

“You can call me Virge,” he says, and it sends an electric shock up Logan’s spine. It’s not his name, but it’s _ close _, Logan can feel it, and the sensation is almost dizzying. 

The pauses stretches just short of too long.

“Lo,” Logan replies, grip tightening on the branch he’s supporting himself on. “You can call me Lo.” 

Virge smiles, then, wide and relieved and even shorter than the last one. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

Logan stares. 

Virge seems unperturbed by his silence, and he simply leans back against the tree Logan sits in, closing his eyes. 

He sits there until the sunlight slants and pour golden through the trees. 

“See you tomorrow,” Virge says, and it feels like a promise. 

* * *

“You have to think of our _ image, _ darling.” His mother stares down at him from her throne of decay, twirling her fingers and frowning. “An autumn befriending a mortal- _ my son _ befriending a mortal. Really, Logan, think of the implications.” 

Logan closes his eyes and tries not to grit his teeth. “I have not _ befriended _ a mortal,” he says, “we’ve barely spoken.” It’s the sort of dancing around the truth he’s been forced to master, deception of the lowest kind. 

“Yet you allow him to live,” she says. “He walks into our forest, clad in holly, and you simply sit with him.” 

“He is no threat,” Logan says. “He doesn’t have any ill will towards the fae.” 

“You take him at his word?” She challenges, raising an eyebrow. “The humans are not like us, Logan. They lie with ease.” 

“If he is a danger, why hasn’t he done anything?” Logan asks. “He sits in the forest and watches the wildlife. He barely even speaks.” 

“He is tricking you,” His mother says, eyes stormy. “He will kill you in cold blood.”

“_ Falsehood _!” It tears out of Logan with surprising force, ringing through the clearing and the forest beyond.

The Queen of The Unseelie court sneers, baring her razor-sharp teeth. “That human will be the death of you, Logan,” she says, and with a flap of her hand, he is gone. 

* * *

_Maybe Mother is right, _ Logan thinks, _ just not in the way that she expects._

Virge is more subdued than normal when he arrives, and he rambles a lot about things Logan doesn’t understand, before getting to something he might.

“And I know that- like, I know we’re not _ friends _, really, we barely even talk, but…” he trails off. “Fuck. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“No,” Logan says. 

“Alright,” Virge says, “Just- here.” And on the roots of the tree Logan is hiding in, he sets a small, braided bracelet, dark blue and black. “I wasn’t sure what colors you like,” he mutters, face bright red for inexplicable reasons.

Hesitantly, Logan jumps from the tree, landing on his feet and staring at Virge, and then at the bracelet. 

“You wear it,” Virge says, resolutely avoiding eye contact. “And- and it means that we’re friends.” 

Logan blinks at him. “We’re friends?”

“I mean,” Virge’s face is really red now, and his hands twitch towards the bracelet like he wants to take it back. “Not if you don’t want to be, I guess.”

Logan looks down at the bracelet, then up at Virge. “Friends,” he says with a smile. 

He picks it up and slides it over his hand, onto his wrist- it hangs a little loose.

Virge reaches over and pulls on the knots, and soon it fits perfectly. “Technically, you’re never supposed to take it off,” Virge says, “but I get it if-”

“I won’t,” Logan says. “Never.” 

If it meant getting that shy little smile, Logan would wear it to the end of the earth.

* * *

He meets the Seelie on the first day of spring. 

He is well into his friendship with Virge at this point, accustomed to the quiet banter and playful roasts that come with him. 

This Seelie is something else altogether. 

It’s the shifting of the Courts- Logan watches as his mother, angry and seething, passes off her crown to a Fae he recognizes- the Queen of the Seelie Court, an extremely powerful Spring fae. 

As the crown is placed on her head, it blooms, and the Seelie cheer, grabbing each other and spinning in delighted circles. 

Logan and the other Unseelie fade into the background while the Seelie celebrate the beginning of spring.

One of the Seelie breaks off and- doesn’t quite _ tackle _ him really, but almost does, arms around his shoulders and laughter ringing in his ears. 

“I’m sorry,” Logan says as he pulls back, “do I know you?”

“Oh!” The Seelie’s honey-gold eyes go wide, and he shakes his head. “No, I guess not, I just saw your bracelet and figured that you must be Lo.”

_ Lo. _ The name skitters down his spine, and he stiffens, glaring. “Who told you that name?” He hissed. 

“Vir-” The Seelie stopped. “Uh, Virge did.” 

Logan did not relax. “And _ who, _exactly, are you?”

“Patton?” The Seelie’s blindingly bright smile finally started to fade. “Has he never mentioned me?” 

“We do not actually talk all that much,” Logan says. 

“Oh,” Patton says, looking thoroughly put out. “Well, he talks about _ you _ all the time.” 

“He does?” Something warm and fluttery blooms in Logan’s chest.

“Yeah,” Patton says morosely. “He made you the bracelet, right? I have one just like it.” He holds up his arm, and there on his wrist sits to bracelets, one gold and one purple and black, braided in an admittedly similar pattern to Logan’s. 

“Oh,” Logan says. The fluttery feeling sours, and he suddenly decides that he doesn’t like this fae much at all. 

“I guess I’ll see you around,” Patton says. 

He walks away, leaving Logan alone in the dark.


End file.
